


This Has Just Begun

by thecrackshiplollipop



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrackshiplollipop/pseuds/thecrackshiplollipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glee girls party hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Has Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to timorous-scribe for the beta!

They're both drunk and rolling - well, Santana is for sure, but she saw Berry down two Long Island iced teas and watched Brittany pass a tab from her tongue into Rachel’s mouth, which... that’s an image she'll never ever erase from her spank bank. So, when they slip out of the bar together, tangled in each others arms and gasping against each others mouths as they make out in the back of a taxi, it has absolutely nothing to do with logical thinking. When they get up to the hotel room Santana has no plan, but then she's kissing Rachel up against the door of their room and groping over her hideous Sailor Scout blouse when Rachel makes a noise against Santana's mouth that shoots straight to her core. Santana realises it's going to go far beyond kissing so she gets them into their hotel room and pushes Rachel back onto the bed so hard the springs squeaks audibly. Rachel just stares at her with almost-black eyes and swollen lips and uses her ridiculously long legs to draw Santana in until she's pressed flush against the heat between Rachel's legs.  
  
" _Fuck_."

Rachel's clothes come off without a complaint, skirt and that hideous blouse that Santana tosses at the trash can, because fuck that blouse for hiding those tits from her all night. "Don’t move," she breathe against Rachel's ear, fingers scratching down her chest and the curve of her ribs, because she’s trying to wriggle back more onto the bed. Rachel stares at Santana, her mouth pursed slightly, but she stubbornly submits (which is pretty hot).    
  
Santana sinks down to her knees, glad she decided to wear pants to the club, because otherwise she'd have carpet burns for weeks. Rachel actually wears white underwear (which will now forever be one of her biggest turn ons), they’re absolutely soaked and Santana takes her time sliding them off before tossing them unceremoniously to the ground. Santana makes sure to leave dark hickies and scratch marks up Rachel's thighs so she’ll have to wear pants for a few days. Rachel doesn’t seem to mind because Santana's pushing two fingers fingers into her and she’s rolling her hips against Santana's hand like a pro. It’s pretty fucking perfect how she tightens when Santana presses her mouth to Rachel's clit and sucks.   
  
Between the purposeful pressure of Santana's fingers and the expert way she swirls her tongue, it doesn’t take her long to have Rachel coming undone with an unintelligible expletive muffled against the heel of her hand. Santana stands up, licking her fingers clean before climbing over Rachel's body, surveying the crescent suction marks on her abs and the semi-circle bite marks across her chest with a satisfied smirk.  
  
Rachel focuses on Santana with wide, glassy eyes and moves her mouth as if she’s trying to formulate exactly which parts of her excessive vocabulary to tap into. Santana shakes her head, pressing her fingers against Rachel's lips. Rachel flicks her tongue out, tasting herself, and Santana's knees buckle from the shock.  
  
"Jesus fuck, Berry." She blinks and braces herself against her, their noses touching just slightly. She feels something like emotion stirring in her and she pushes it back; it’s just the E and the adrenaline from Nationals that’s making her heart pound faster, surely not the soft way Rachel is looking at her. She tilts her gaze back to Rachel’s mouth and licks her lips. "I wanna fuck you again."  
  
"Oh," her breath hitches and her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks. "Santana,  _please_."  
  
"Turn over," she pushes herself up off of the bed and pulls her shirt off, pretty sure they have enough time for this. Rachel has turned over on her stomach and her ass looks really fucking good outside of those kindergarten hooker skirts. "On your knees," she hisses, leaning down to bite Rachel's shoulder when she complies.  
  
She smoothes her palms down Rachel's back slowly, turning her nails against her skin when she reaches Rachel's lower back. Rachel shivers and moans quietly, so Santana slides one hand over Rachel's ass and strokes between her legs, teasing across her clit before quickly drawing back and licking her from her fingers. She grunts in frustration and cants her hips back towards Santana, an action which earns a smack across her ass. Santana smiles when Rahel yelps and bends over her. "Behave, Berry, or I’ll leave you here like this," she says sternly, squeezing Rachel's hip for emphasis.  
  
Rachel whimpers but nods, biting her lip and restraining the urge to verbally beg for more. Her silent plea is answered, though, when Santana strokes back against her again, eliciting a soft sigh of relief from Rachel. Santana trails open-mouthed kisses from Rachel's jawline to her neck and bites there, almost tenderly. Santana steadies herself with her hand on Rachel's hip, her nails digging into her skin.  
  
It’s a sudden need, but Santana has to make Rachel hers in that moment; she blames it on the drugs and the thrill of dominating the top bitch in Glee. She stops teasing Rachel's clit and pushes inside with two fingers, rough and fast. She needs Rachel to come undone around her, to feel the moan that ripples through her body. She feels her getting wetter, and the noises she’s muffling against a pillow are just making Santana slippery with need.  
  
"Rachel," Santana mumbles against her shoulder, curling her fingers inside her roughly. She gasps and arches back, pressing herself against Santana's fingers as Santana bites down on Rachel's shoulder, hard enough to make a nasty bruise. "Rachel." She growls her name this time, scraping her teeth up her sweat slick flesh until she can tug on her earlobe.  
  
"Mm?" It’s all she manages before she keens forward and Santana feels Rachel tighten around her fingers. Santana's breath catches in her throat and she pushes Rachel faster, harder, because she  _needs_ Rachel to come but-  
  
"I need you to hold it," Santana gasps against her back because, despite her need, she still wants to keep control. So she holds her hand there, even when she squirms in protest and tries to grind her hips against Santana's still hand. Santana holds her still, the fingers of her free hand digging deeply into the skin of Rachel's hip to keep her from moving. "C’mon baby, you can do it." It slips out and she feels a little embarrassed but Rachel doesn't seem to notice.  
  
"Fine," she hisses, complacent, her hips falling still after a soft whimper. Santana smiles and scissor her fingers inside Rachel slowly. Rachel twitches against her, whining low in the back of her throat like a cat. Santana chuckles and slides her fingers out slowly, stroking . Rachel's so close to going under that Santana can feel her bobbing there, her mind fighting to follow Santana's orders but her body thrumming to release.  
  
Santana's always gotten off on power, whether it’s topping Quinn Fabray on the pyramid or topping Rachel Berry in the girl’s hotel room during Nationals. Santana loves the sound of her name in Rachel's voice, that pretty mouth moving to beg for it. This is what she wants. No, this is what she _needs_. To hear Rachel begging. To hear Rachel saying her name desperately as she clutches the tacky hotel duvet.  
  
Santana slides her hand from Rachel's hip, up her back, and pets through her hair once before gripping her shoulder. She thinks about what she wants for a minute, her eyes panning down the tight muscles in Rachel's back, over her ass as it rests against the dark denim of Santana's jeans. It’s almost perfect. But Santana realises she wants to see Rachel's face. She whispers the command and steps back so that Rachel can roll over easily.   
  
She looks totally blitzed. Her pupils are blown wide and her lips are deep red from biting down on the pillow. Santana moves back in, pressing her skin to Rachel's until she's close enough to kiss her. So she does, and Rachel starts at the touch of Santana's mouth. Santana smiles, waiting until Rachel relaxes into the kiss, into her. Rachel's hands slide up the bare skin of Santana's back until she's twisting her fingers in the curls of Santana's hair. When her whole body has gone pliable under Santana's body, Santana pushes two fingers back into her. Rachel cries out and arches against Santana's hand. Santana groans, still a little dumbfounded by how wet and wanting Rachel is. Rachel is instantly right back on the edge, rolling her hips against Santana's hand urgently. Santana kisses down Rachel's jaw and neck, licking over a dark red mark she left behind earlier and moving to make its twin on the other side of her neck.  
  
She makes this pathetic mewling noise and it snaps her attention back to Rachel's face. She’s slack jawed and _fuck_ that’s exactly what she wanted to see, the wanton look of desperation on her face as she’s about to come. But she’s not there _yet_  and Santana knows  _exactly_ what she needs to get there; her thumb ghosts above her clit, but she's waiting. Waiting for Rachel to beg.  
  
Rachel bites her lip, looking desperately at Santana until she must realise what Santana's waiting for. She grapples to form the word until she finally gasps "please" and pulls roughly on Santana's hair. She growls and vow silently that Berry will pay for that later, but rewards her obedience by rolling Rachel's clit beneath the pad of her thumb. She cries out and Santana hums appreciatively against her throat. It only takes a moment before she’s gasping, "Santana," and clenching around her fingers, hips pumping until suddenly every muscle in her body goes rigid. Santana leans in and kisses the sound of her name away, riding the wave of Rachel's orgasm almost completely connected to her.  
  
Rachel takes forever to come down, her muscles uncoiling as Santana pulls her fingers away, wiping them carelessly on her jeans as she settles onto the bed. Rachel slowly shakes off the afterglow as Santana stretches out on the bed, rolling her wrists to shake the tension out of her forearms. Rachel sits up sharply and looks around, her eyes still glassy and dark, but not just from the drugs anymore. Santana smirks at her crazy sex hair and props herself up on her elbows, watching carefully for any sign that Rachel might lose her shit.  
  
She's weirdly proud when Rachel stands - albeit on wobbly legs - and starts to pick up her clothes from various parts of the room. No freak out, no cuddling. Santana watches her, admiring the red marks decorating her skin. Rachel glares at Santana as she plucks her skirt from the hotel's door handle and Santana shrugs, grinning sheepishly. Both of them know that the rest of the girls are due back from that shitty bar in Flatiron any minute and Rachel walks across to the window and opens it a crack to let in some fresh air. She takes her clothes and stuffs them in her suitcase before sitting back down on the bed, cross-legged.

"You should shower," Santana offers, sitting up fully on the bed. She needs to get off, so bad she can't even put any authority in the suggestion. Rachel sitting there awkwardly would just be distracting. Rachel nods and slips off of the bed and walks across the room to the bathroom. "Don’t shave!" She calls after her, figuring shaving while high is just as bad as shaving while drunk. Santana's hands are practically trembling as she undoes the buttons on her jeans, images of Rachel coming flashing through her head. All she can think about  _right then_ is getting in a good orgasm or two before the rest of the Glee kids get back.  
  
"You coming?" Rachel is standing just outside of the door to the bathroom, head cocked to the side.  
  
"Huh?" Santana's pushing her pants off of her hips but Rachel's question stops her short. She look over at Rachel, eyebrows raised in confusion.  
  
"I’ve never had sex in the shower," Rachel offers nonchalantly, but her mouth turns into this 'fuck me' smirk and Santana practically comes right there.  
  
She'll deal with the repercussions later, because Rachel’s mouth is as red as an Atomic Fireball and her she is gloriously naked, brown curls tumbling over her shoulders, and this uncharacteristically sexy look on her face. Three hours earlier, Santana would have laughed at the idea of fucking Rachel Berry. She would have laughed until her sides ached and her eyes watered over. But now she’s standing there, waiting for Santana to shut her mouth and stumble across the room to join her in the bathroom. _For shower sex_. And Santana can't imagine anything other than the incredible softness of the inside of Rachel’s thighs and the way she moans her name when. She imagines that devil-red mouth between her legs and moans, practically tripping over her jeans as she hops out of them on the way to the bathroom.  
  
Yeah, convincing Rachel to take that hit of E is one of the greatest ideas Brittany has _ever_ had.


End file.
